Affirmation
by Lady Aoi
Summary: Taking place forty-one years pre-game, this is the story of Shinra’s space program and the impossible love between two men. Pairing: (YOUNG) Palmer/Heidegger. Rated for language, violence and limish shounen-ai/yaoi.
1. Family is Worth More Than Money or Gold

Affirmation

Chapter One: Family is Worth More Than Money or Gold

A Final Fantasy Seven Fan Fic

By

Lady Aoi

Summary: Taking place forty-one years pre-game, this is the story of Shinra's space program and the impossible love of two men. 

Pairings: Palmer/Heidegger (young)

Rating: R for violence, language, limeish yaoi

Disclaimer: I don't own Palmer and Heidegger, at any age. Square Soft has that blessing. And the doujinshi pic that inspired this fic can be found at: http://www.bishink.org/bishink/reeve/photo.jpg The title of this fic and the chapter titles come from the Savage Garden song of the same name. Buy their CD, don't steal it from your roomie like I did. ^_~

Lady Aoi's Notes: Once again, blame Xel "she who would only slash a younger Heidegger and Palmer" –chan.

~*~

            Heidegger slowly shook the haze of sleep from his eyes as the chocobo wagon rumbled to a stop. He'd been dreaming again. He knew it. And not because he remembered any particular soft-edged image. No. Klaus Heidegger scarcely ever recalled the contents of his dreams. Nevertheless, he always remembered the act of dreaming; the unreal, tremulous feeling that somehow melted all cares into mist and made all things seem possible. Heidegger closed his eye again and buried his face back into his arms. The feeling haunted the young, swarthy man like the silence of the desert surrounding Coral Prison; both were enigmatic, unfathomable and had been with him since birth.

            Rusty ill-oiled hinges squealed in protest as the wagon's back door opened and the droning of flies filled the air. Heidegger grunted and rolled away from the threatening shaft of light. Couldn't the bastards just let him sleep? His right eye was still throbbing from the stitches, and he doubted he could have opened it even if he'd wanted to. In fact, if what the doctors said was true, he was lucky the assailant's blade had only scratched his cornea. And if he was even luckier, he would someday regain some of his vision. If he was the luckiest man on the planet, he'd regain it all.

            "Well, well. Here's a familiar face." And a familiar voice. Heidegger ignored the warden.

            Diocletian's foot tapped an impatient tarantella against the wagon's floor, thus wafting the smell of dirt and sweat to Heidegger's nostrils. "Knock it off, Klaus. I read the report. That gangster didn't cut up both your eyes, and he didn't cut up your ear drums, either. And last I heard, you weren't paralyzed, so sit up and look at me."

            Heidegger sighed. When would he learn you just couldn't fake anything around Warden Leo Diocletian III? Slowly, he cracked his good eye open and eased himself onto his haunches.

            In response, the old man smirked and flicked a hot piece of ash from the end of his cigarette. "Well now. That's a lot better." Heidegger would have loved to attack him for that comment alone, to say nothing of the superior little smirk that flickered across the warden's wrinkly old face. "I wish I could say welcome back, Klaus. But sadly, we'd all hoped we'd never see you here again." The warden's smirk turned into a look of pity, and Heidegger felt his stomach turn. Liberal bullshit like this really got to him.

            "Oh, spare me," Heidegger snorted as he clambered to his feet. He could only advance so far, however, before the length of his ankle chain snapped taut against the floor. "And don't pretend for a moment that you have any pity for me, Diocletian," he growled into the man's face. "The only reason you give a blonde rat's ass hair whether or not I come or go is 'cause you think it makes you a better person. So you can take your concern and shove it right up your scrawny little ass."

"How wrong you are, Klaus Heidegger," For his part, Diocletian looked truly pained as he shook his head and exited the wagon. "Gentlemen, please escort Mr. Heidegger to the Box for a few hours," he said as he stepped into the blinding desert sunlight. "Perhaps the temperature will teach his own hot head a thing or two about cooling down."

Ah yes, Heidegger decided as the two Shinra guards entered the wagon, Coral Prison hadn't changed a bit.

~*~

            Like its name, the Box was a surprisingly uncreative form of punishment. It consisted of a four iron walls with a door and two tiny barred windows for ventilation. When you picked fights, hoarded food, lead a revolt against the guards or otherwise pissed Diocletian off, you were thrown in here for however many hours or days of scorching heat he felt you should endure. Needless to say, Klaus Heidegger was a regular tenant. In fact, the frequency of his visits had led him to keep the place stocked with a generous supply of water and that necessity of necessities, cigarettes. Of course, the other prisoners were allowed access to them whenever they were unfortunate guests of the metal cage, provided they replaced the things within two days of being liberated. And with one glaring exception, every prisoner had obeyed this unspoken edict. The glaring exception, on the other hand, was still recovering in the Coral Prison infirmary. If there was one thing Heidegger hated, it was people who took advantage.

            That and just about everything else involving prison life. 

            Klaus blew a discontented cloud of smoke from his nostrils and took another gulp of water. Yeah. Like life outside the prison was any better. They finally released you on parole, or after your sentence was up or… whatever, and where did you go? Sure, they gave you a nice suit and one hundred Gil, but that barely even covered a train ticket and one night's board at an inn. And then you had to find a job with nothing on your resume but the three things you learned in prison; how to fight, lie and steal. So, was it any wonder most people came back here sooner or later by doing just that? And even if there was a better way of handling things on the outside, Heidegger sure as hell hadn't found it. No one had even bothered to help him look. 

            _Hell with it, Heidegger decided as the Box's lock turned. __At least no one in Coral's ever tried to cut up my face for a piece of bread! He flicked the last of his cigarette's ash onto the Box's floor and walked out of the narrow door into the bright afternoon sun._

            _If that's what life outside of here's really like, then count me the hell out. 'Least people here got some respect for each other._

            Or at least most people here knew better than to fuck with a guy like Klaus Heidegger if they wanted to stay healthy and alive.

~*~

            "Hey, Klaus! Hey, Klaus, over here!" 

            Heidegger winced as he turned to the voice. Ouch. Yeah, they were right when they said being only able to use one eye fucked with your depth perception. This would take some getting used to until it healed. If ever. "Gyahaha! Hey there, Eddie. How's it going?"

            The little boy grinned at being addressed and quickly scurried down from his perch atop a large wood pile. "It's going great!" he chirped as he landed next to Heidegger. "But I really missed you, Klaus! I thought you were gone for good this time." The boy frowned and stood on his tiptoes to peer into Heidegger's face. "Hey! What happened to your eye?!"

"Gyahaha! That's a long story, pal." And it was. How did you tell a little kid some junkie in Midgar had attacked you for your last piece of bread? And that he'd been so out of it he'd slashed at your face while raving about how he was gonna kill god or something? Well, you just didn't. Instead, when the kid looked at you sternly for holding out, you just laughed again and told him you'd gotten into a fight. Because he'd sure as hell had seen plenty of those.

"Okay," Eddie frowned and poked his bare toe into a patch of dirt, trying to fully accept this vague explanation. "I mean, it sure looks like it hurt!"

"Yeah, Eddie it did. But I'm glad to be home." In a way it was true. Either way, it was a brilliant change of subject.

"Ohh, me too! Me too! Um…" Eddie looked down and watched his wriggling toe. "Not that I didn't wish that you hadn't made it out there… you know?"

            Heidegger patted the boy's head reassuringly. Of course Eddie didn't want Heidegger to stay in prison, no matter how much he loved him. Hell, everyone wanted to get out of Coral Prison, most of all an eight-year-old boy who never belonged here in the first place. But be that as it was, most of Coral's inmates also didn't want to lose a man like Klaus Heidegger. Who would protect them if he left?

            "Aw, hell, kid, I know what you mean," Eddie beamed as Heidegger knelt down next to him and smiled. "Gyahaha! You feel like a piggy back now?"

            "Yeah!" Eddie cried as he threw his arms around Heidegger's burly neck. The bearded man smiled and slipped his large hands beneath the boy's slender calves before hefting himself back to his feet.

            "'Cmon, kid. Let's go see how everyone's been doin' since I left."

            "Yay!" 

            "Hey, is that Klaus Heidegger?" An old, bow-legged man asked as he hobbled out from around the wood pile. "Well, well, well," he grinned around the straw stuck jauntily in the corner of his mouth. "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes. What you in for this time, eh?"

            "Gyahahaha! You don't even wanna know, Duke. And if you do, I'll tell you later." Sometimes it was nice to have an older guy for a friend. He had more perspective on things… well, when he wasn't drunk of his ass, that was.

            Duke, for his part, seemed to get the message. "Oh…kay," he said as he spat the stalk from his mouth. "Anyway, y'all'd better mozy on back to your house, Klaus. I hear Natashya's been havin' one helluva time since you done left." Duke looked around nervously, and then beckoned Heidegger closer. "It's those damned Madison brothers again, ya see. Acting too big for their britches now they thought Klaus Heidegger'd left the roost."

            Well, wasn't that nice? "Thanks for letting me know. They won't feel so big for very long." And with that, Heidegger patted Eddie's knee. "Come on, kid. Let's go visit Mom. Maybe she'll give you a cookie."

            "Really?"

            "Yep. If she's got one and you remember to thank her this time."

            "'Kay, Klaus." As the pair made their way across the scorching desert sands to Natashya Heidegger's shack, Duke hobbled off to spread the news. Half of Coral Prison's royalty had returned!

~*~

            Like her formidable twenty-year-old son, Natashya Heidegger was not someone to be trifled with. Standing a good three inches over her child and weighing slightly more, Natashya could have easily torn most of Coral Prison's strongest men limb from limb in minutes had she so desired. Unless challenged, however, Natashya preferred to rule her kingdom with a gloved fist of iron. After all, couldn't you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? 

            One of Natashya's tricks was baking cookies. Keep the prisoners' children well fed and happy and they'd be that much less inclined to question your authority. And even if she hadn't eaten a crumb of sugar in the last seventeen years, her reign had gone nearly unchallenged. Now, if only she could do something about those damned Madisons…

            "Gyahaha! You want another ginger snap, Eddie?" 

            The little boy grinned and shook his head. "No thanks, Mrs. Heidegger! I'm all full up."

            "Eddie, whaddya say to Mrs. Heidegger now?" Her son asked as he leaned back in his chair at the table. 

            "Thank you, Mrs. Heidegger!"

            Mother and child 'Gyahahaed' in unison. "Well, if you're all done here, why don't you run along home, okay?" Natashya soothed as she ran her heavy palm through the little boy's matted hair. "Me and Klaus have some important grown-up stuff to talk about now."

            "'Kay. See you later, Klaus!" 

            "Gyahaha!" Heidegger chuckled as the little boy sprinted from Natashya's kitchen. "How about that, huh? That kid sure is somethin' else."

            "He reminds me a bit of you at that age," Natashya agreed as she carried the boy's plate and glass to her rusty sink. "Speaking of you, Klaus, I wasn't bankin' on seeing you return this time."

            "Yeah. Shit happens," Heidegger shrugged as he reached for a ginger snap.

            Natashya turned with the speed of a cheetah and snatched the plate from her son's questing hand. "Gyahaha! Nice try, Roo, but you ain't nine and a half anymore. And these're for the kids, got it?"

            "Aw, shit, Mom! Can't I have just one?" 

            "No, because you'll ruin your appetite. And don't say 'shit' in front of me, Roo. Twenty years old or not, I'm still yer old lady. And I'm the only one allowed to talk shit around this house."

            Grumbling, Heidegger plopped himself down into a kitchen chair. "Sh—Shoot, Ma. The no swearin' I can handle. But ya gotta stop calling me that stupid baby name."

            Natashya pecked her son's cheek as she returned to the sink. "Twenty or not, you're always my little Roo."

            "If the guys heard that –"

            "Shit, Klaus! The guys've known about this Roo thing ever since you were knee-high to a bite bug! You think they're any less scared you're gonna kick their ass?" 

            Heidegger admitted he had nothing to say to that, either way.

            "No. So forget about it, already. 'Sides, if I was you, I'd be more worried about that eye of yours than whether or not I still call ya Roo."

            "Gyahaha! What's to worry about?"

            Natashya furrowed her brow as if her son were an annoyingly tenacious glob of grease that refused to be scrubbed from a pan. Heidegger winced at the caution in her voice. "Roo, you got a foot long knife wound down your face that looks like it's pertineer festering. Now, don't tell me there ain't nothing to worry about. You're gonna keep that thing cleaned out, got it?" It was not a question, and Natashya's house was not a democracy.

            "Gyahahahahaha!" Heidegger rubbed his head nervously. "Alright, Ma. I'll make a point of seeing Doc in the morning."

            "If you ain't to him by noon, I'm dragging you there myself. In the mean time, you'd better go rest up. Because we're havin' a little welcome-home shebang for you tonight. We being just about everyone but the Madisons, who I know ya didn't really miss."

            "Ma, I don't really feel up to –"

            "Hush. Of course you do." Natashya said as she returned to her sink. "We got a reputation to keep up around here, Klaus. And eye or no eye, we ain't gonna let anyone think the Heideggers've gone soft." 

            "'Course not, Ma," And that was that.

            "Gyahaha! Glad we're agreed. Now, off to bed you go."

            "Aw, heck, can't I at least have a ginger snap and some milk first?" Natashya's brow furrowed dangerously. "Uh… I mean, if yer gonna insist on callin' me Roo like I was nine-and-a-half, I might as well get something out of it, right?"

            "Klaus Heidegger, you sneaky little hellion!" Natashya feigned annoyance as she wiped her soapy hands on her apron. "Gyahaha! You can have one snap, Roo, and no more. And that's only on account of you bein' a cripple."

            "I ain't a cripple," Heidegger chuckled as he grabbed a cookie from the plate.

            "Exactly," Natashya nodded sternly. "And for your sake and everyone else's, you'd better remember that, Roo."

            "Ya don't haveta tell me twice," Heidegger called over his shoulder as he mounted the stairs to his room.

            Natashya nodded sternly after him and returned to her dishes.

~*~

            After tossing and turning for an hour, Heidegger came to a decision. It was too damn hot to sleep indoors. And so, the burly young man scaled the pole in his room and walked onto the house's roof and into an endless field of stars.

            "Oh, yeah," Heidegger murmured as he lowered himself to his knees. "I missed this so bad..." and it was true. He'd never once seen a starry night in Midgar's slums. Maybe that's why everyone down there was psycho. Not seeing the sky made you feel a bit restless after awhile. And if you'd gone your whole life without seeing one, well…Heidegger pillowed his head on his arms and gazed up into the canopy above him. Tonight, the air smelled like sand, Hazelwood and honesty, and sounded like a lonely guitar being tuned. You could hear your heart beat in this cricket-chirruping calm, and for just one moment, you were almost able to forget where you were. You almost felt…

"Alive," Heidegger sighed. Truth be told, it wasn't a feeling you experienced very often in a place like Coral. No matter how well liked you were, no matter how strong, how respected, how powerful, your eyes still stared off into the shimmering distance with more fatigue and bitterness each year. And the quicksand that surrounded the desert could still swallow you alive, the same as it could anyone.

            Even so, Klaus Heidegger was not just anyone. While most of the prison's "citizens" had been sent here for stupid reasons, his was the dumbest of all; being born to a woman who had been given a life sentence. And not having the sense to move one damn step beyond that.

"They say that every person gets to live many lives," Heidegger said to a passing star. "And that they have to make up for the shit they pulled in their previous life during the one they have now. You think that's true?" The young man shrugged and scratched his beard as the comet sailed ambivalently on. "I dunno if it is or not. But I'll tell you somethin': sometimes I sure wonder what the hell I did to deserve this. Ya know, sometimes I just wish…" He wished what, exactly? To be 'free'? To be paroled and let out without a Gil to his name or anywhere to go? To steal and lie his way to Midgar's slums and wander in and out of useless jobs until some crazy drunk slashed his face again? He wished he'd die tomorrow? He wished he'd never been born?

"Nothin'…" Heidegger said definitely. "Nothin' at all."

The stars continued to twinkle distantly as Heidegger closed his eyes.

~*~

            "Morning, Roo. Eat yer breakfast and get down to the warden's office," Natashya said as Heidegger entered her kitchen the next morning. "Pew! But ya take a shower first, would ya. And kissing your old lady good morning after being away for three months might not be such a bad idea, either." 

"Mhh, lettin' your little boy wake up first might not be a bad idea, you mean," Heidegger grumbled as he pecked his mother on the cheek. "What's cooking, Ma? And what's this about seeing Dio?" he questioned as he sat down at the table.

"Eggs, bacon strips, hash browns and oatmeal, same as always. You want some cream in your coffee? Just got some in yesterday."

"Nah, I'll take it black this morning. And Ma, you still ain't told me what Dio wants with me. If it's about yesterday, he can shove it. I did my time in the Box, and I ain't done nothin' yet today so –"

"Roo, what'd I tell ya about swearing?"

"What the – sayin' 'shove it' ain't swearing, Ma!"

"It's my kitchen, and if I say something's a swear word, then it damn well is," Natashya huffed as she scraped two sunny-side-up eggs onto her son's plate. "And as far as Dio goes, I don't have any more idea than you. He just came by this morning and said he'd like to see ya after you'd had your breakfast. Don't know why, don't know anything more. But I don't think he's mad atcha, Roo. In fact, he was downright nice to me."

            "Aw, Ma, he knows better than to pis—to upset you," Heidegger corrected himself as Natashya handed him a mug of coffee. "It's me he's got no problem messing around with."

"Well, he didn't seem to be that way today. In fact, he seemed downright nervous."

"Nervous?" 

"Yeah," Natashya sat down next to her son with her breakfast. "His face was paler than usual, and he had some dark bags under his eyes. Bet he didn't sleep three winks last night. And you know that ain't like him in the slightest. So, whatever's eating him, I doubt you're the cause. In fact, I bet you're the solution."

"Or the scapegoat," Heidegger muttered as he shoved a strip of bacon into his mouth. "Alright, Ma. Lemme just finish up here and I'll go see what he wants."

"Good boy," But Natashya's expression clouded. "And how many times do I haveta tell you? No talking when you're eating!" 

"Owch! Ma!" Heidegger cried as Natashya whapped his left ear soundly.

~*~

            One hour later, a fed and freshly showered Heidegger knocked firmly on Diocletian's dust-covered office door. Vaguely, he wondered why Diocletian even bothered having one, as the thing was forever being marked up and abused. Today, for example, someone had stolen the "d" "e" and "n" from the word WARDEN and substituted a "t" in their place. As the door slowly swung open, Heidegger suppressed one of his typical hearty "gyahaha"'s. Funny, but 'wart' wasn't the first four-letter word he would have associated with the warden.

            "Hello, Klaus. Please, come in." Heidegger shivered at the sight of Diocletian's too-indulgent smile and did not sit until the warden motioned for him to do so.

            "May I get you something? A drink, perhaps?"

            Heidegger folded his arms. "Look. You hate me and I hate you, so you can cut the formal crap. Ma said you came by to see me this morning." He held his arms out to his sides, palms facing the warden. "Well, here I am. Now, you gonna tell me what's so important you gotta bother my mom before sun up, or what?"

            Diocletian simply blinked at the prisoner and sighed as he replaced the scotch bottle on the bar with an unsatisfied clink. "Alright, Klaus. Since you don't want to mince words today, I'll get right to the point. I need your help."

            "Gyahahahaha!" Heidegger laughed so hard his wound stung. "Hoo-boy, that's a good one, sir! You send your boys to pick me up for breakin' my parole when I did nothin' but get in a fight – and I fight I didn't even start. Then ya stick me in the Box during the hottest part of the day. Add that to the hundreds a times you've done nothin' but try and screw me and my Ma over and well… I'm sorry, but I don't think we owe ya jack shit. 'Scuse me, warden. I got a life to get back to now."

            "Indeed, I suspected nothing more from you," Diocletian sighed. "Sit down, Klaus. Please? You wanted me to get to the point, and now I'm going to. Klaus, please do not make me restrain you in that chair. For your mother's sake?"

Heidegger paused in the doorway and closed his eyes. Damn that son-of-a-bitch! He knew just what buttons to push. "You got five minutes, sir," Heidegger informed the warden as he took his seat again.

"Thank you, Klaus. I called you here because I've been given an offer from Shinra, Inc. that I think you will find most interesting."

"Oh, yeah? And what   kinda offer might that be?"

            "Klaus, many of the men and women at Coral Prison have never had work to speak of… unless you count stealing, murdering and fighting as work."

            Heidegger shrugged. "Heh. Don't knock it 'til you've been forced to try it, warden."

            "That being the case," Diocletian continued. "The new President Shinra has offered to help them find some."

            "The new President Shinra?"

            "His father died last Tuesday," the Warden bowed his graying head for a respectful moment. "The new president is about your age, Klaus. And from all accounts, he seems to be far more charitable than his predecessor."

            "So you've said. What kinda work did he offered us?"

            "As you must have noticed, Midgar is currently in a state of horrifying disrepair." Diocletian shook his head as he eased himself onto the corner of his desk. "Its support systems are out dated, its water supply contaminated, its public works virtually non-existent."

            "Your point still not made."

            "Klaus, President Shinra has offered to give all able-minded and able-bodied prisoners of both sexes work in the Midgar Reconstruction Project. You will be given a decent salary, housing and – where are you going?"

            "Your five minutes are up, warden," Heidegger snarled. "And my answer is not only no. It's also no, and you can rot in hell, ya sick bastard."

            "Klaus, think about it! Many people here would be given a chance for honest work at honest pay! A chance to finally be self-determining individuals! Can you and your mother truly say you don't want that for your people?"

            "I ain't got no idea what "self-determining" means, but I'd bet fifty Gil ya just made it up, like you do half your words," Heidegger scowled. "And as far as wantin' better lives for everyone goes, you know damn well there ain't nothing my mom and me want more. But you ain't talkin' about putting everyone in a decent paying job. This is nigh-on slave labor you're talkin' about, and I'm telling you right now that my Ma and me ain't gonna have no part of it."

            "Klaus, this is not slave labor! President Shinra has promised to pay for his construction work, and I know he fully intends to keep that promise."

            "Oh, yeah? So how much did he promise to pay us, exactly?"

            "Well, I don't exactly have the final figures yet but –"

            "I said how much?!"

            Despite himself, Warden Diocletian jumped slightly. "F—five, six, maybe even seven gil a day," he stammered.

            "Gyahahahahaahahah!! He said that?! Oh that's rich, Warden. Real rich. Like you made such a big stink about pointin' out, I been to Midgar. And I made a lot more than that an _hour, and it still wasn't enough to live decently on."_

            "I did mention you would be fed and housed –"

            "Sure, we'd be fed and housed – probably not too well, either – and when the constructions over, we leave with what? A thousand, two thousand Gil in our pockets? Who the hell can live a decent life on that for a month, huh? What the hell kinda offer did Shinra make you, anyway? What's in this for you?"

            Diocletian sighed miserably. "He said he'd give me enough money to begin laying ground work for the Golden Saucer."

            "The Golden Saucer? The hell's that supposed to be, a giant tea cup?!"

            "It's an – a resort of sorts. Something my family and I have wanted to create for quite sometime."

            "Uh-huh. And so you're gonna sell your prisoners so you can have your little amusement park. Well, congratulations, sir. I hated your slimy guts before this little talk, but now I have half a mind to nail your no-good body to the wall!"

            "There's no need to be so hostile, Klaus," the warden said calmly.

            But Heidegger was outraged. "And if you think me and my Ma are gonna go along with this sick little scheme of yours –"

            "Oh, but I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to help me."

            "Good bye, warden. I'd say good luck on getting your amusement park but, well… I'd rather just say fuck you. So fuck you, sir."

            The warden shook his head. "Very well. If that's the way you truly feel, then you leave me no choice." Heidegger watched as the white-haired man snapped his fingers and a door at the opposite end of the office opened revealing an old man and a small boy. Both were bound and gagged and seemingly propped up by two burly men. In three seconds, Heidegger recognized them as two of the Madison brothers.

            "What the hell? Duke? Eddie?! You dirty rotten – you tell those freaks to let 'em go right now or, so help me, I'm gonna tear them both apart and then you'll be next!"

            "I'm afraid your time for making casual threats is up, Klaus. I've politely asked you to help me, and you have refused most impolitely. And so, taking a page from your book as it were, I have decided to use force. Now, if you leave the room without agreeing to help me, I'm going to ask Alexander and James here to kindly dispose of two liabilities. And if you take one more step towards me, I will simply have the boys shoot them now. Starting with the old man." Duke let out a strangled whimper as Alexander Madison pushed him to the ground and pressed a shotgun barrel to his temple.

            "Dammit, this is a fight between you and me! Eddie and Duke got nothin' to do with it."

            "They don't? Pardon me for disagreeing with you, Klaus, but President Shinra said he would only hire able bodied men and women for the Midgar Project. And when I asked him if children and the elderly could qualify, he simply laughed. Neither Eddie nor Duke – which is which again? – can therefore do not make any money nor bring any money in for me. As of now, they are simply consuming precious resources that could be better spent on more economically viable prisoners."

            "If either of you hurts them, you're gonna have the Heideggers to deal with!" The young man bellowed, shaking his fists at the Madison brothers.

            "You'll do nothing of the sort. And if you and your Mother refuse to cooperate, I give you my word that my guards will execute any prisoner President Shinra has deemed unfit for work. And all members of any rebellion you two may try and stir up. Now, how about it, Klaus?" The warden signaled James to put his shot gun to Eddie's head as well. "Are you going to work for me and prosper, or are you going to stain your hands and your mother's with innocent blood? I'll make certain you and Natashya get a fair cut of the Golden Saucer's profits for your pains."

            "You can keep your dirty money." Heidegger fumed. "And you're still a dirty bastard. And what's worse is you're also a liar and a yellow-bellied coward, hidin' behind a kid like Eddie instead of fightin' this out with me. Let 'em go, Diocletian. I ain't gonna fight you on this, but you make one false step and Klaus Heidegger'll be the least of your worries. My Ma ain't so nice as me, or so forgivin'."

            "Excellent. I'm glad to hear we see eye to eye, at last. Boys, you may untie them and go. I'll call you if I need anything else."

            Heidegger waited until the Madison brothers had done the warden's bidding. Immediately upon being freed, Eddie raced across the room and hid behind his legs. For his part, Duke calmly stood, brushed himself off, removed a straw from his shirt pocket and wrapped his lips around it. 

            "Klaus is right, sir. And if you had any brain or heart ta speak of, you'da listened to him. This bargain you done made with Shinra ain't nothin' but trouble and, mark my words, it'll come back to haunt ya someday." Turning to the Madisons, Duke then said calmly. "I reckon one of you boys took my cane. I'd like it back now." When Alexander complied, Duke tipped his hat to him and hobbled across the room to join Heidegger.

            "Thank you, Klaus Heidegger. Your help is certainly appreciated," the warden called after him.

            "I ain't even gonna dignify that by tellin' you to shove it, sir. C'mon," Heidegger said as he scooped Eddie up into his arms. "No more cryin' now, ya hear? We're goin' home."

~*~

            Half an hour later, Natashya descended the stairs in her house looking unusually tired. She tucked her large hands into her apron and sighed. "Well, after three stories an' a plate of ginger snaps, he's asleep for what it's worth," she announced to the kitchen.

            Duke looked up from his plate. "Glad to hear it," he said as he offered Natashya an encouraging smile. Even in the dim sunlight coming from beneath the shutters, however, his smile looked forced.

            "Shit, Ma, Diocletian's really lost it this time," Heidegger huffed into his beer. "What the hell're we gonna do."

            Natashya wiped her hands off her apron and looked up at the ceiling. "Klaus Heidegger," she said after a long pause. "We ain't gonna do nothin' for the time being. And for the last time, what did I say about swearing in my kitchen?"

            "Crap, Ma, you can't be serious!"

            "I am dead serious, Klaus. No boy of mine is gonna have a gutter mouth, and I don't ever wanna hear another cuss word from you again. You got it?"

            "Yeah, Ma, I got it but –"

            "Now, as for Diocletian, there ain't a hell of a lot we can do about him right now. Like it or not, he's the real owner of this place, and from what you told me, I'm willing to believe Shinra's sent him more than money to make sure he gets the 'help' he wants. And I don't think any one of us here's up to fightin' a whole platoon or so of fully armed Shinra soldiers. This ain't nothin' like a feud with the Madisons, and the fact they've bought into this little scheme of his don't make things any easier."

            "But Ma, we can't just sit here and –"

            "We can very well just sit here! Because if we bide our time 'til we get to Midgar, we'll have a better chance of things."

            "Hold it, Ma. If we can't fight the Shinra on our own soil, then how're we supposed to fight 'em on their's?"

            "Because they won't be suspecting it is why! Look here. If we go along with Diocletian and Shinra all docile-like, then they'll think we've given in. So they won't be expectin' any kinda revolt. Also, we'll be away from our kids and old folk," she nodded appreciatively at Duke, "so they won't get caught in the crossfire."

            "And you really think we can take on a bunch of Shinra at their home base?"

            "Boy, if they had anyone else to do this work of theirs, do ya think they'da come to Coral for a bunch of lyin', stealin' thugs like us? 'Course not. They'da hired 'em already. So if we rebel at Midgar, stop workin' and seize all their fancy equipment, then they won't have no choice but to free us, or at least pay us decent for our work. Ya see it now?"

            "Oh," Heidegger had to admit it, his Mother's plan made some sense. "Alright, but I still don't like it."

            "Klaus," Natashya sighed, placing her hands on her son's expansive shoulders. "I don't see as we got a whole lotta choices now. And this one's probably the best we do got. Now you, me and Duke here are gonna sit on down and draw up a battle plan. Duke, you know when they're gonna start shipping us out to Midgar?"

            The old man shook his head. "Well, Diocletian didn't say exactly, but the way he was goin' on, I reckon it'll be sometime this week."

            "Right, then. We're gonna sit down and plan this thing out and then go tell everyone we can trust what's what. That way, we won't haveta tell anyone what's goin' on in Midgar if they're gonna have us monitored. And I bet real gil they plan on it."

            "But Ma –"

            "Son, you should listen to your betters," Duke said as he flicked the straw from his mouth. "They're older 'n' you and they've been around longer. And I think Mrs. Heidegger knows a lot about this kinda thing. Don't ya, Mrs. Heidegger."

            "You just gotta trust me, Roo," Natashya said as she patted her son's back. "You been with me for twenty years now and I ain't never let you down so far, right? And I sure as hell don't plan on doing it now. So whaddya say, son? Plan this thing out with us?"

            Heidegger looked around the room and sighed. "Alright," he said at last. "Let's do this."

(End Part One)


	2. Junk Food Tastes So Good Because It's Ba...

Affirmation

Chapter 2: Junk Food Tastes So Good Because It's Bad for You

A FFVII Fan Fiction

By

Lady Aoi

Summary: Set forty years pre-game, this is the story of Shinra's space program and the impossible love between two men. In this chapter, we meet the second of them, Matthew Palmer.

Pairings: Heidegger/Palmer

Rating: R for language, violence and limeish yaoi/shounen-ai.

Disclaimer: I don't own Heidegger, Palmer, President Shinra, Hojo or any cannon character who wanders happily through this fic wondering what drugs everyone else is on. However, Natashya Heidegger, Nathaniel and Myrtle Palmer are mine. Buy Final Fantasy XI, kids!

~*~

            Slowly, a doughnut-shaped sun rose upon a barren and desolate alien world.

"Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun…"

A lone astronaut exited his bottle rocket and nervously cased the landscape. He looked left. He looked right. He looked left again. Then slowly, hesitantly, he raised his booted foot and planted it firmly upon alien soil.

"Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun…"

"Shinra base… that's one small step for man, and one gigantic leap for mankind…Oh! Hey, excuse me for one second?"

The astronaut lay on his side as the ground shook perilously beneath him. A ball of rubber bands rolled past as it began to snow. A few minutes later, the explorer struggled back to his feet. The sun now had a large bite-shaped chunk missing from it.

"Palmer to Shinra Base, it seems we are experiencing some unprecedented lunar eclipse. The sun appears to have been eaten. Repeat…mhhhh. I didn't know this one had jelly inside!"

A few seconds later, the sun vanished entirely, leaving only the detritus of sugary snow as evidence of its former existence. 

"Mhhh…dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun."

"Shinra base… the sun seems to have vanished entirely. Mhh… but it sure tasted great…"

"Blibble! Blibble! Blibble!"

The astronaut turned just in time to see it. "Uh…hey, Shinra base….? I think we have a problem…" he murmured as a long, narrow shadow divided his face. "I really think we have a problem…"

"Blibble! Blibble? Blibble?" the pencil questioned.

"I am Lt. Matthew Palmer of the Planet… um… I come in peace!"

"Bliiiiiiible!" The giant pencil began to bounce forward menacingly.

"Wait! Wait! I am a representative of a peace-loving society!" 

"Bliiiiiiiiible!"

"We're a race of explorers! Men of science and learning! Um… um…I don't wanna use my mako gun on you!"

"Bliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiible…."

"Um… um…. Here! Here's a peace offering!"

"Blibble?" The pencil inclined its eraser slightly as a large doughnut descended from the sky.

"Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah! Halleluiah!"

"Please," the astronaut bowed to the alien. "Eat as much of it as you wish."

"And so the intrepid explorer and the sole resident of planet Blibble sat down to partake of the gigantic doughnut. And peace reigned between their home worlds for years. The end."

Matthew Palmer looked up from his toys and wiped his brow. "Phew! If only space travel really was like that. 'Scuse me now, guys. I think I'm gonna eat that doughnut!" As Palmer reached over the toy rocket to grab for final glazed pastry, the telephone rang. "Hey! Hey!" the young man cried as he picked it up. "Engineering Department, fifteenth floor! Matt Palmer speaking!" he bit into his doughnut happily. "Mmmh! How cag I help mmew?"

"Palmer, take that doughnut out of your mouth and get back to work!"

"Aaah!" Palmer nearly choked on his confection. "Puh—president Shinra!" he wheezed as he spewed little glazed crumbs all over the receiver. 

"No, Palmer, it's your mother!"

"Mother?" Palmer blinked. "Oh. Hey! Mama!  How are you? Gosh, you sure do sound different! You're not playing a joke on me, are you?"

"Palmer," President Shinra growled. "Put down the doughnut, put your toys away and GET BACK TO THOSE PLANS!! NOW!!!"

Palmer responded to this order by screaming and falling off his desk. Unfortunately for Shinra, he also dragged the telephone down with him.

"Palmer," Shinra began to feel a headache coming on. "Listen to me now, okay? Stop screaming."

*sniff, sniff*

"Stop crying. Get off the floor, put your toys away, and go back to your drafting, alright?" 

"But – but—" Palmer whimpered, "I'm all tangled up in the phone cord now!" 

"Then untangle yourself, get up and –" Shinra sighed and hung his head as the phone cut off. Slowly, he replaced the receiver in its cradle and buried his face in his hands. "Miss Kempe?" He asked, pressing his telephone's intercom button.

"Yes, President Shinra?"

"Please send someone to get me two aspirin and another pot of coffee. We're 

out."

"Yes, sir. And sir?"

Shinra sighed again. "What is it, Miss Kempe?"

"Your three o'clock is here to see you, sir."

The young president honestly considered ignoring his secretary's last remark. Finally, however, his new-found sense of responsibility as the company's president won him over. "Oh? And who is it?" 

"His Excellency Nathaniel Palmer, sir."

Shinra hesitated. On the one hand, he desperately did not want to see or hear from his worst engineer's overbearing and insanely powerful father at the moment. On the other hand, could he really refuse such a man? "Send him in, Miss Kempe," he finally said. "Oh. And as for the aspirin?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Double my dose." President Shinra clicked the intercom off and straightened his tie with the care and concern of a condemned man. 

_Dammit, what does that man want from me today?_

The young man was not left wondering for very long. Minutes later, the afternoon sunlight flashed across his office doors and the methodical clip-clop of his secretary's heels announced his unwelcome guest before a single word was spoken.

"His Excellency Nathaniel Palmer."

"Jonathan! Wonderful to see you!"

"Your Excellency," Remembering his late father's advice, the young Shinra was quick to acknowledge the white haired man with nothing but a polite but neutral nod, and an equally ambiguous smile. Without another word, Miss Kempe bowed to both men and closed the high glass and mahogany doors behind her. Shinra did not even turn his head to watch her leave. "Please, your Excellency," he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do," Governor Palmer said as he eased his girth into the soft maroon leather chair. Once arranged, he exhaled happily and removed a silver cigarette case from his vest pocket. "I came as soon as I heard," he said as he fumbled for a lighter. "I'm sorry about your father. David Shinra was a good man. It must be difficult for you. If there's anything you need…" He offered the young man his cigarette case.

Jonathan Shinra politely waved it aside. "Thank you, Your Excellency. Your offer is most appreciated. These last few days have, indeed, been most trying… for all of us."

The old man nodded as he slid the cigarettes back into his pocket. "Oh, I can fully understand, Jonathan," he said as he puffed on his cigarette. The smell of vanilla tobacco soon filled the office, and Shinra began to feel ill. "And that's why I hate to bring this matter up now. But sadly, I really don't have a choice."

"Matter, Your Excellency?"

The chair creaked in protest as Governor Palmer leaned forward. "Yes, Jonathan. The matter of my son's employment in your engineering department."

Shinra nodded. Oh, god. The old man simply _had to bring that up on a day like this. And yet, what could he do about it but smile pleasantly and nod? "I see."_

The Governor removed the cigarette from his mouth and tapped the embers into the tray on Shinra's desk. "A few days before his… before your father passed, he sent me Matthew's monthly evaluation. I don't know if David told you, but I've been asking him for one for the last two years. Jonathan, it is my understanding that Matthew isn't performing…well, that he isn't the best engineer in your department."

_That's putting it mildly, Shinra thought. Instead, he continued to listen._

"But he's just…" Nathaniel sighed. "He just needs some time. Encouragement. Discipline. And I know you're just the young man to teach him that. David was a marvel of a man but… I often believed he never really understood my son."

Shinra could not help but wonder if anyone truly did… and why anyone would ever want to.

"Matthew's a good boy, but he just… he gets distracted easily. Sometimes I think…" Nathaniel's face clouded for a moment. "Ah. But no matter," he continued as he removed his cigarette case a second time. "I'm fully confident that you can help him find his niche at Shinra, Inc."

"Yes, your Excellency." _Why don't you just come out and tell me I don't have any choice *but* to help him find his damn niche? _

"Oh, I almost forgot," Nathaniel reached into his pocket and removed a small envelope. "This is for you, Jonathan."

Shinra took it calmly, noting for the fifth time during the meeting that his father's summation of Nathaniel Palmer's character had omitted nothing and nothing extenuated. The old man had all the subtlety of a Behemoth when passing a bribe! And yet, what could be done about it? David Shinra had also told him the exact truth regarding the company's tenuous relationship with Junon's governor. And though Shinra knew he was an inexperienced president, he also knew he wasn't a stupid one by any means. "I'll do my best to help him find one," he said. What else was there to do?

"I know I can count on you," the governor said as he rose. "And now, as much as I would love to stay, I'm afraid I must get back to some urgent business in Junon. You will phone me if you need anything?"

"Of course," Shinra stood as well and shook the large hand offered him. "I am reachable at any time, Your Excellency." _Just like my puppet of a father was…_

"Glad to hear it," and to Shinra's horror, Nathaniel actually placed a hand on his shoulder. "Listen son. Take some of the Gil in that envelope and treat yourself. Hit the taverns, go shopping, and paint the town red from the bottom up. Heaven knows, you deserve it after this week." And then the old man turned and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Shinra opened a drawer and shoved the envelope inside.

"I'll be damned if I'll spend your dirty money on anything but the things my father told me to," the young president fumed. "And if you think otherwise, you can shove it, old man! Father may have humored you, I may humor you, but I'll be damned if I'll play the fool or beggar for you!" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"And I'll be damned if I help your idiot son 'find his niche' either!" Ahh, what was that old saying about the sins of the father? From Shinra's earliest memories, his father's company had been closely allied to Junon – or, more exactly, to its corpulent leader. Nathaniel Palmer was Junon's governor and, quite possibly, the only threat to Shinra, Inc's power on the face of the planet. While the leaders of other city-states had either capitulated to Shinra, Inc's authority ages ago out of stupidity, military weakness or simple bald-faced cowardice, Nathaniel Palmer ruled his province with the wisdom of a Medici, the cunning of a Machiavelli, and the ruthlessness of a Borgia. His political erudition and Junon's strategic position on the eastern coast had essentially put him in the convenient position of demanding anything he wished from the electric company – and getting it, too. For without Nathaniel's consent, Shinra, Inc. could not mount its greatest and largest mako cannon on the city's battlements. 

One of the governor's main demands had been a job for his imbecile of a son. Shinra's father had been unable to refuse, and so the little moron had been bumbling his way around the engineering department ever since. And for the last two years, otherwise qualified employees had been tolerating his inattention, sloppy work and general clumsiness. 

Well, Shinra decided as he picked up the telephone, all of this was about to change. While he couldn't fire Matthew Palmer, he didn't exactly have to give him a free ride anymore, either. His father had insisted on doing so, and his father also had the virtue of being dead now. 

"From now on, Matthew Palmer," Shinra muttered as he dialed the hapless engineer's number, "From now on, life around here is going to get just a little bit harder for you. Hmm, that's strange," he said as the fourth ring. "Usually he's in his office now…"

"President Shinra?"

"What is it, Miss Kempe?" Shinra asked as he replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to the speaker on his desk.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. But your four o'clock is here."

"Ahh, yes...Miss Kempe?"

"It's Professor Hojo, sir."

Once again, Shinra's face met his hands. "Alright, Miss Kempe, send the doctor in." Heaven knew how Gast's little primadona hated to be kept waiting…

~*~

            Unbeknownst to President Shinra, Matthew Palmer had left his office shortly after the telephone call. Being yelled at by anyone, especially his boss was a surefire way to ruin his day. And not wanting it to be ruined so quickly, Palmer had vowed to cheer himself up by finding more doughnuts. On the way to the cafeteria, he had been distracted along the way by his favorite room in the Shinra building: the 59th floor Observatory.

"Hey, hey! How's it going, guys?!" Palmer grinned waved to two passing engineers. "Tra la la! Wanna come see the Observatory with me? I got a box of doughnuts!" He waved them happily as the two engineers passed him.  

"Do you hear anything, Wedge?" The first engineer asked.

"I don't think so, Biggs. Unless you're referring to that barking dog."

Barking dog? Palmer scratched his head. What were they talking about? Pets weren't allowed in the Shinra building! Well, maybe guard dogs were, but still! They wouldn't be on the 59th Floor. Unless one of them had escaped. Ohhhh! Scary thought! 

"Hey, hey! Wedge! Biggs! You didn't _really see a dog up here, did you?"_

"How strange," Wedge wrinkled his nose as he and his companion entered the elevator. "There it goes again! I wonder if it even notices it's being insulted." 

"Does he ever? You could probably walk right up to him, punch him in the nose, and he'd still just give you that goofy smile of his and offer you a doughnut."

"Yeah, aren't the mentally retarded a pain in the nose to work with?"

"Hey, guys? You still didn't tell me about the dog."

When both men only laughed at him as the doors closed, however, Palmer decided they'd only made the dog up. "Mouu, you don't need to be so rude!" He shouted after the elevator. "And don't say retarded again!! It's mean!" 

_Sometimes I wish I was retarded, though, Palmer whimpered as he reached into his pocket and removed his key card. __At least then I really wouldn't understand the mean things you say about me to my face! Swiping the card through the pad dejectedly, Palmer shuffled through the door…_

And immediately forgot all about his sadness, the engineer's taunts, and the dog (that he still suspected to be roaming the fifty ninth floor). 

"Wow, look at this place," the young man whispered. Truth be told, Palmer hated everything about engineering. No matter how hard he tried, he could never make a dent in the work that covered his desk, and the long urban development meetings bored him almost literally to tears. In fact, everything about Shinra, Inc. made him want to cry out of confusion and the sheer frustration of it all. Everything, that was, except the 59th Floor Observatory. Silent, clean and usually empty save for Palmer, it served as the young man's sanctuary against the company he had grown to hate. 

"No… almost hate," Palmer said to no one in particular as he sat down in front of a large telescope. "Because you and I both know things won't always be this way, right Copernicus? Someday, Midgar will be finished, and then we can concentrate on better things…" he placed his eye against the telescope's end and turned it towards the slowly darkening sky. He frowned when he only saw darkness. "Hey, what's up, Copernicus?" Palmer frowned as his fingers discovered the large crack running down the telescope's side. "Someone broke you since I was here last?" That was weird. Who could have been in the Observatory between lunch and now? "Well, don't you worry," Palmer soothed as he gently removed the telescope from its stand, "Ole Matt'll have you working again in no time! Hey, don't worry, okay? I always watch out for my friends." 

_Too bad telescopes are my only friends…_

Palmer could not remember when his obsession with outer space had truly begun. However, he considered it most telling, indeed, that his earliest memory consisted of nothing but a star filled sky and his mother's voice as she methodically named the constellations. Orion. Gemini. Andromeda. Ursa. So many wonderful names. How he had longed to see them up close and personal.

"And I'm not gonna say I won't see them," Palmer murmured. "Because someday, I'm gonna be the first man in space! Yeah… we're gonna name the rocket Myrtle, 'cause of Mom and all… man oh man, I really hope she's there to see it!" As Palmer shifted his hand for a better grip on the telescope under his arm, his fingers brushed across something small and… vaguely paper-y. Blinking, Palmer removed his eye from the telescope to investigate. Hm. Indeed, it _was a piece of paper. And a sticky note, no less._

"That's funny. What's that doing here?" The engineer wondered as smoothed the note out for a better look. "Dear Palmer," he read. "This is a note from yourself. Do NOT do NOT do NOT DO NOT DO NOT – wow that's a lot of do-nots! – Do NOT forget that you have an engineering meeting today at four-thirty p.m. in the little room with the red carpet on floor forty-one. Sincerely, yourself. Oh, well, that's alright," Palmer smiled as he put the telescope up. "Because I remembered, and I left myself plenty of time! According to my watch (which I set fifteen minutes ahead in anticipation for this!) it is now…" Palmer blinked. "Five thirty?" Hm. If his watch was only fifteen minutes ahead, then that means it's…" His blue eyes bulged. "It's FIVE-FIFTEEN?!? AAAAH! I have to go… I have to go!" 

            It wasn't until he was safely in the elevator and roaring down to the forty-first floor that Palmer remembered something important.

            "Oh no!! Copernicus, we gotta go back for the doughnuts!"

~*~

"And in conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, let me just say –"Jonathan Shinra scowled as the conference room doors exploded open. "Glad you could join us, Palmer." He snorted as the lanky blond scurried into the room with…of all things, a box of doughnuts and a telescope.

_Dear god, Shinra rolled his eyes. __If I decided to shoot him now, would you really damn me to hell? And if yes, would it still be worth it?_

"Hey hey!" Palmer greeted the room with a mighty wave and several engineers ducked to avoid being hit by his telescope. "Hey, President Shinra! Sorry I'm late!" He laughed self-consciously. "I guess I kinda just lost track of time, you know?"

"Believe me, I know all too well," Shinra huffed. "Now… Palmer, stop giggling and sit down! We can deal with your doughnuts after the meeting!"

"Oh… sorry," the young man pulled his hands from the doughnut box as if it had burnt him and overturned it in his haste. As doughnuts scattered over the blueprints, Palmer blushed and took his seat. "Sorry," he whispered, humiliated.

Shooting Palmer the dirtiest look his frayed nerves could muster, Shinra returned to the engineers. "As I was saying, ladies and gentlemen, as the Midgar Project is progressing quite ahead of schedule, I believe we have time to tour the construction site today."

"Ohh!" Palmer cried through a mouthful of spilled doughnuts. "Road trip! Road trip! Tra la la!" 

Shinra visibly shuddered that time. _Yes, I believe it would be. "If you will all follow me…"_

Hot dog! And here he'd thought this would be another boring meeting! Palmer leaped up so quickly he overturned the chair. "Are we gonna take a bus or something?" he asked from the floor.

"Palmer…" _Complement in public, criticize in private… complement in public, criticize in private…complement in public… "Actually, the site is relatively close to the building. So we'll be walking, Palmer."_

"Awww," the engineer pouted as he hopped to his feet. "I like busses. The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round…"

"Yes, thank you, Palmer. Please save the serenade for later. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you'll just follow me."

As the engineers filed out of the conference room, Palmer snatched up his telescope. "Hey hey! Wait for me, you guys."

(End Part Two)


	3. The Grass is No More Greener on the Othe...

Affirmation

Chapter Three: The Grass is No More Greener on the Other Side

A FF7 Fanfiction

By

Lady Aoi

Summary: Set forty years before game, this is the story of Shinra's space program, and the impossible love between two men – Heidegger and Palmer. In this chapter, they finally meet.

Rating: R for language, limeish shounen-ai.

Disclaimer: Palmer, Heidegger, Hojo, Gast, President Shinra and any other cannon character who wanders into this fic and decides to stay isn't mine. They all belong to Squaresoft. Hail the almighty Square! 

Lady Aoi's Notes: Once again, the doujinshi pic that inspired this story can be found at . Is it just my imagination, or are Heidegger and Palmer standing awfully close together? And Reeve looks like he's about seventeen!

Anyway, I'd like to apologize to this story's readers (all two of you ^_~) for taking so long to update. This semester has been especially rough with a full load of theatre and classes. In fact, I should be hard at work right now on my thesis, but Palmer demanded I update. And since I'd kept him waiting since December, I felt it was only fair. 

Thanks also go to my sister Shahnida for helping me figure out some of Heidegger and Palmer's dialogue in this chapter (we did an AIM role-play for them quite sometime ago, and I just recently stumbled across the log, liked what I saw and thought I'd use it). You rock sis! Be sure and check out her fanfiction and her brilliant original story "Innocent Sin" on fictionpress.net. Love you, sis!

And now, on with the story.

~*~

            After several walking minutes (and several exhortations for Palmer to "stop daydreaming and keep moving!"), Shinra Inc's elite engineering corps finally arrived at their destination – a small overlook on top of Sector Four's recently completed main pillar. 

            "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fruits of your most recent labor," Even President Shinra was unable to hide his awe as he gestured at the sweeping cityscape before them. 

And what a city! Even though it looked tiny on paper, Midgar was huge. And it would be even bigger as soon as they finished it. As the engineers oohed, ahhed and scribbled furiously in their notebooks, Palmer rubbed his eyes and tried to find the appropriate words to describe the miles and miles of neon and chrome sprawling out below him. Preferably better words than 'heck' and 'really big'. In the end, he managed to find only one:

"Wow."

Really, how the did these engineers do it? How did you make a drawing on a piece of graph paper and actually turn it into this huge vaguely asterisk-shaped… building? Yes, building was a good word. To Palmer, Midgar looked like one gargantuan unified structure – the spokes of a giant's bicycle wheel, maybe, with Shinra Tower in the center where the ring should be. Only four spokes were complete as of now. 

"Wow… just wow…" he repeated softly as Shinra approached him.

"Like what you see, Palmer?"

The blond nodded so vigorously his neck snapped. Wincing, he slipped a hand behind his head to massage the area before flashing Shinra a huge smile. "It's so… so… wow…"

"…Ah, indeed. And you know what would make it even more "so…wow", Palmer?"

Failing to notice the edge in Shinra's voice, Palmer thoughtfully slipped a finger onto his lip. "Um… maybe if we painted it green or something? 'Cause green's a really nice color, and it'd look especially pretty at night with all the mako lights shining on it and –"

"Palmer, do you understand what sarcasm is?"

The engineer blinked. Wow. President Shinra did _not_ look happy! He'd have to be careful when answering. "Uhm… yes?"

"Then you do understand that I've been relying on it during this entire conversation, don't you?"

"…..um…. you were?" 

Once again, Shinra's palm met his forehead. "Sir, are you okay?" Palmer asked.

It took a moment for Shinra to find his voice. When he did, he was not surprised at its harshness. "No, Palmer. I'm not okay."

The young engineer patted Shinra's back lightly. "You look kinda sick," he said sagely. "Maybe you should go lie down or something?" Palmer blushed in surprise as Shinra looked up and slid a hand onto his shoulder.

"Palmer, listen. Please? I'm not okay because your work hasn't been okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" Palmer looked down at his feet and twiddled his thumbs.

"And this city would get designed and built a whole lot faster if you'd do the work you're assigned instead of playing with the toys in your office, alright?"

Palmer felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach. "I know…but…"

"But? But you don't feel competent working in your field?" Shinra's voice was almost hopeful.

"Well…" how Palmer would have loved to say yes! It would be so simple to give President Shinra the explanation he wanted because it was the truth. God, how he wanted to quit his job and just go home! Sure, taking care of his mother during her most violent fits wasn't exactly a picnic but at least he'd done it before and knew what to expect. And yet, if he spilled his guts to Shinra and got fired right here and now, his father would never let him hear the end of it. And between his job and his father, there was no doubt in Palmer's mind which he feared more. Thus, the young man merely shook his head and answered Shinra's question with "I guess I just need to get motivated is all, sir."  

"I see…" Shinra smiled dangerously. He was just about to verbally bite into the so-called engineer when a reedy voice interrupted him.

"You're not the only one who needs to get motivated, Mister Palmer."

President Shinra visibly cringed. Of all the blasted bad timing…"Oh, hello Simon. Fancy seeing you here."

The dark-haired child bristled at this deadpan delivery. "Oh, do try and contain yourself, Jonathan," he snapped. For his part, Palmer eyed the boy curiously. Who was he, and what was he doing here? More importantly…

"Hey there, little boy," sunlight flashed menacingly across his glasses as the boy pivoted. Palmer smiled and offered him the box. "Would you like a doughnut?"

Shinra's forehead met his palm yet again as Simon Hojo's dark eyes narrowed into cruel little slits. "Would. I. Like. A. Doughnut. Little. Boy?" The funereal chill of these words managed to effectively silence every adult within hearing range. All save Matthew Palmer, who merely smiled indulgently and again offered the box, as if it were a holy relic or a delicacy (to Palmer, these were synonymous).

"Yeah…hey, you know the powdered ones are the best. 'Cause they have jelly in the middle and -- " Palmer's words caught in his throat as the boy slapped the box from his hands, sending its sugary contents flying. "Oh no…" the engineer knelt beside his fallen confections and turned the nearest (a rather misshapen glazed affair) over and over, like a doctor appraising a small, wounded sparrow. "Oh no oh no oh no oh no…"

"Oh, please oh please oh please oh please!" Hojo mimicked. "Look at you! A grown man crying over spilt doughnuts!" Hojo rolled his eyes as Palmer hugged the crushed box to his chest and began crying. "And you fault me for my age?" he asked Shinra, bitterly.

The young president had to remind himself not to strike the child. Violence never really solved anything in the end. And besides, Professor Gast was so much better at it.

            "Hey!" Hojo rubbed his head and glared up at his mentor murderously. "That really hurt this time!"

            "Well, good," Professor Gerald Gast put his hands akimbo and glared at his young protégée. "Simon, what did I tell you about back talking your elders again?"

            "That I should do it only when their IQs are obviously lower than mine?" Once again, Gast's hand came down firmly on the back of Hojo's head. "No," Gast said patiently as Hojo glowered. "You are never to do it period. First of all, it's rude and secondly, you're far too talented and smart to use language like that."

            "Language like what?" Hojo backed away even though Gast had not move to raise his hand. "If I'd really wanted to insult that pathetic excuse of a president or that savant of an engineer, I would have called them both coc –"

            "Simon, do you want a time out for the rest of the afternoon?"

            Hojo poked the tip of his shoe into one of the holes on the grating beneath him. "No, professor."

            "And I don't want that either. After all, we have a very important experiment to do today."

            "If it's that stupid funny face project you give to all the other kids, then no thank you. I'd rather take the time out…or shoot myself in the foot. Whatever."

            "Actually, I had hoped you could help me out with something involving the Cetra today. But if you're going to be cranky…"

            "Cetra?" Hojo's head shot up interestedly, but his expression quickly soured at the sight of Gast's smiling face. "Ohhh, great. You're giving me that look again."

            "Mhh-hmmm," Gast nodded. "If you're going to help me with Miss Ifalna today you have to apologize to President Shinra and to…um…"

            "Waaaaaaaah!" Palmer sobbed, clinging to his doughnut box for dear life. He didn't notice Gast's attempt to learn his name.

            "To his sad friend over there," Gast said, abandoning all hope of getting a response from Palmer. "So, what's it gonna be, Simon?"

            "My God, must you be so patronizing?" Hojo sighed and turned to President Shinra (who had been watching all of this while desperately and quite unsuccessfully attempting to hide his mirth). "Sorry, President Shinra. I shouldn't have said that. And sorry, Mr. Palmer." Palmer just stroked one of his jelly doughnuts while crooning silently to it. Hojo rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Professor! Look at him!"

            "Mr. Palmer, please accept my sincerest apologies for my student's behavior. Simon means well –"

            "I do _not. He's a big baby and -- Mpph?!?"_

            Gast clamped a hand over his protégée's mouth while laughing nervously. "He means well, but I'm afraid he's at that incorrigible stage in life where filthy language, rude jokes and insulting people suddenly become a favored past time! (Simon don't kick me. My goodness, I really can't take you anywhere!). But he's very sorry for ruining your doughnuts. At least he will be when I make him buy you a new box with his allowance this week! (And don't you pull that face on me, young man! You had ample warning to make amends and you refused!). Is that satisfactory, Mr. Palmer?"

            Palmer hiccupped an affirmative and slowly hauled himself to his feet. He still clung to the doughnut box as if it were a wounded child and as Gast released Hojo from his grasp he backed up and hid behind President Shinra.

            For his part, Shinra scarcely even noticed. The interplay between Gast and his student had just given him a monthly dose of absurdity, and he suddenly felt his headache coming back on. 

            "President Shinra, once again I am very sorry for the boy's behavior. Simon, go back to the lab now, please? I'll join you in a minute."

            "No, I won't go back to the lab. You're just going to tell him about the accident and about how I'm just some poor little boy whose still grieving and who doesn't know what he's doing." Hojo made a face. "I freaking hate it when you do that."

            "Simon Hojo," Gast placed his hands on his hips and gave Hojo a truly displeased look. "If you don't return to the laboratory this minute, you can not only forget about assisting me tonight, but you can also forget about visiting the Valentines' this weekend. Or any weekend for the rest of the year."

            For some reason this threat seemed to phase Hojo. "I really hate it when you talk about me like I'm not here," he grumbled. But he turned and descended the staircase without another word nonetheless. As he left, Gast brought a fatigued hand to his temples and sighed.

            "Mr. President, as you can no doubt plainly see, Simon is a very precocious twelve-year-old. Unfortunately, the precociousness which makes him an indispensable assistant and student also makes him a most difficult young man – and a young man who always seems to know when I'm talking about him. But please, if I may ask you to be patient with him…scarcely a year has passed since the accident."

            "Accident?" Shinra blinked. "What accident?"

            Gast glanced anxiously over his shoulder before answering the president's question. "Yes. His parents and elder sister, from what I understand, were all on a research expedition near Icicle Inn when there was an accident…Simon won't talk about the details, and the counselors know little more than I do. But I know it was bad. The researchers who found him two days after the fact say he looked a fright; pale, sickly, half-frozen from the cold and starvation. He didn't speak to us for three weeks afterwards and then he mainly said…unrepeatable things. He's been with me ever since, and I can assure you he is a wonderful young man and a brilliant researcher."

            "Uh-huh," No doubt about it, he could definitely feel his headache coming on now. "Gerald, if I may be blunt…why did you tell me this story?"

            "I'd hoped, sir, that it would provide an explanation for Simon's behavior."

            "I'll say it does," Palmer sniffed. As both men turned to him in surprise he continued. "Poor little kid!" Palmer whimpered. "To have to deal with something as bad as that…and when he's so young, too!" His face became serious for a moment. "Hey…I bet you anything he was there for the whole thing, too."

            "Really?" Interested, Gast stepped closer to the weeping engineer. "How can you tell?" When Palmer only looked at him and flushed with embarrassment, Gast slid a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Palmer, don't be afraid. I'm not going to bite if I don't agree with your analysis." He laughed gently. "Actually, I'd be more willing to bite myself for not realizing the problem sooner if I do agree with you. If you have any information to volunteer…"

            "It's just a hunch I got," Palmer said softly. "It's that look in his eye, Dr. Gast. That look where he won't look you right in the face. Or if he does, he turns right away like he wants to ignore you. But he looks so sad under that frown…sad like I was once." He shook his head and tried to force a smile to his lips. "Hey, hey! But that was a long time ago, huh?" The smile vanished and he looked down again. "I guess I just think I know what he saw because…I saw some pretty bad things myself when I was his age. And when I looked in the mirror, I looked just like he does." This time he managed a genuine smile as he clamped his hand onto Gast's shoulder. "Hey, will you do me a huuuge favor? Tell him he doesn't have to buy me any more doughnuts, okay? I prolly eat enough of 'em as it is. In fact, I should be the one giving him doughnuts!"

            "That's very kind of you, Mr. Palmer. But it's hardly necessary."

            "No, really. Is it okay if I get him a box sometime? Like maybe tomorrow? Or tonight even? 'Cause every kid should get a box of doughnuts sometime! More so if it's after they have to deal with something hard."

            "Normally I don't allow him to eat anything refined," nonetheless Gast was smiling. "But in this case, I think I'll make an exception. Just call me when you've sent the doughnuts, Mr. Palmer."

            "Really?" Palmer beamed. "Hey, that's great! Really great of you, Professor Gast! I'll send him a big box of them tonight, you wait and see!"

            "Yes, how very generous of you," Shinra said. Really, had everyone on this platform forgotten his existence? Had someone just declared today the annual 'Ignore President Shinra day? "Palmer? Do us a favor and go play somewhere else. Please? The grown-ups would like to talk now."

            "Oh," the young engineer gave them both a thoroughly apologetic look. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt anything. Sure, yeah. Hey, I'll just go right over here, okay?"

            "Okay. A little further, Palmer. Yes. A little further." Such a pity there was no railing. Watching Palmer fall to his death would quite possibly be the highlight of his day, if not his first year as president. "No, Palmer. Over by the railing."

            "Oh, sorry." Palmer scurried over to the furthest corner of the scaffolding. "Hey, hey! President Shinraaaa! Is this far enough?"

            Resisting the urge to order Palmer to jump or at least to beat himself unconscious against the railing, President Shinra nodded. "Yes, that's fine. Now just stay there until it's time for the rest of the engineers to walk back, alright?" With a heavy sigh he turned back to Gast. "Do forgive Matthew, Gerald. You have your children to cope with and sadly, I have mine."

            "He seems like a very nice person," Gast said as he turned back to the President. "But I'm afraid I don't know what he does here."

            "Believe me, neither do I," Yes, his headache had now just officially gone from 'excruciating' to 'hand me a gun, please'. "Gerald, do you happen to have some aspirin on you?"

            "In my wallet, yes."

            "Excellent. Why don't you fish it out and I'll tell you the whole story about the man. The good, the bad and the downright stupid and annoying. Or the stupid and annoying at least. It's difficult to say when ninety-nine percent of his actions fall under that category."

***

            For awhile, Palmer strained to hear the conversation going on behind him. But when he heard the words "Palmer", "favor for his old man", and "biggest jackass in the city", his face fell and he decided he would be much happier ignoring it altogether. Thankfully it seemed not all of his doughnuts had been ruined. Three powdered sugars hadn't fallen out of the box after all. So Palmer munched on one of these as he pulled his telescope out.

            "Hey, Copernicus," he said as he focused it on the horizon. "I know you're used to looking at the stars and stuff, but if you don't mind focusing on the horizon for a bit, I'd really be happy. I wanna take a look at all the details on this city." He grinned and patted the telescope's side lovingly as Midgar's central tower jumped into focus. "Gee, thanks a lot, old buddy. I definitely owe you one!"  

            Palmer spent the next few minutes gazing at the tower, the supports and the different sectors. It really was amazing, he decided. And very much beyond him. From the thrust of the central tower to the radiating sectors, he had no idea how it was all done. This saddened him greatly. 

            _How am I ever gonna learn how to do a job like this when for my whole life, I've been so busy looking at the stars and taking care of Mom… his reverie broke off at the sound of shouting from below. "Huh?" Palmer quickly swung his telescope downwards, adjusting its focus as he went. Had someone fallen off the overlook? Was someone hurt? He sighed in relief at the lack of broken or injured bodies on the ground below. But the people he did see made him pause curiously. Until now, Palmer hadn't noticed anyone working beneath them. So he was ostensibly surprised at the sight of several hundred men and women in grey uniforms drilling, hammering, welding and hauling rubble away in enormous wheelbarrows. The work looked really hard and painful. "Heck," Palmer whistled. "And I thought my job was hard!" He shook his head in amazement and continued watching the workers drill and carry, all the while turning the focus knob on his telescope in hopes of a better view. At last he managed to get a good enough view to read the patch on one worker's arm._

            "Shinra Inc. Labor Division," he read aloud. "Labor division? Huh. I didn't know we had one of those. And what's that funny number under the logo? 12113? What's that supposed to mean?"

            "It means that they are prison labor, Palmer."

            Palmer gasped and nearly dropped his telescope. "Hey, hey!" He laughed nervously as he turned to face the President. "Didn't see you there, boss! Sorry!"

            "Don't call me boss," Shinra gripped the railing and stared down at the workers below. 

            "Oh, sorry boss. Unh. President Shinra, sir. Hey, what do you mean, they're prison labor?"

            "Palmer," Shinra looked over at the wide-eyed engineer with unhidden and unabashed loathing. "This is a fairly difficult concept to grasp now, so just try and follow along as well as you can, alright? Now, when I say that someone is prison labor, I'm basically saying that he's a prisoner. In this case, a prisoner from Coral Prison. Do you understand?"

            Palmer winced. "Yeah, I know what a prisoner is," he said meekly. "I guess what I meant was…why are they working down there?"

            "Because we need to build a city and they are the most cost-effective work force available."

            "Cost-effective?"

"Palmer, I make no pretense at being able or even willing to fully comprehend how things work in that Happy Palmer Land inside your head, but in the real world cities don't just spring out of the ground like potatoes because some engineers and architects designed them. They need people to build them, wire them, put their parts together."

"I know all that," Palmer said softly. "What I meant was...why not just hire some guys from Kalm, or Junon? Heck, I bet my Father'd be happy to send some people over to work."

"Some people?" Shinra wondered if the pill had yet been invented that could ease a Palmer-induced headache. "Palmer, I know it's difficult, but please try and use your brain here. Just once? For me?" Midgar is a reaaaaallly big city, okay? Therefore it's a reaaalllly big job. So big that some guys from Kalm couldn't get it done in a thousand-million years. Not even if they were assisted by the electrician who fixed the wiring at your Daddy's villa in Costa del Sol last Summer. Do you understand? Or would I have better luck explaining this to the wall?"

"No, I understand," Palmer blushed anxiously as he tried to find the right words. "I guess all I'm saying is…"

"That our diminutive friend Professor Hojo would make a better engineer half asleep and suffering from a perpetual case of PMS? Excellent observation, Palmer! Keep that up and you might just get a raise in forty-seven years or so." He patted Palmer's arm patronizingly. "I'll go tell Professor Gast right now that we've just found an ideal replacement for you! Thank you so very much!" He turned and began walking away from the railing.

"Um…you're welcome, I guess…hey, that was a joke, right?" Palmer called after him.

President Shinra stopped and shook his head. "Yes, Palmer. Keep telling yourself that. Everything in this world is a joke. You, me, Gast's diaper-wearing assistant. The fact that I run a company _that pays morons like you to sit in an office playing with dolls, eating doughnuts and spinning on the finger shoved perpetually up! Your! Ass! Now kindly do me a favor! Stick a doughnut in your mouth, close it, and keep it closed FOR THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"_

Palmer winced and bowed his head, nodding meekly.

"Good." Shinra straightened his tie and looked around at the engineers who were now staring curiously in his and Palmer's direction. Wonderful. Could this day possibly get any worse? He'd barely asked himself that question when someone below them shouted.

"Get the hell back to work you damned, good-for-nothing sons-a-bitches!"

_Wonderful._ Making a mental note to never, ever even think about what else could possibly go wrong on a bad day like this, Shinra hurried back to the railing. He was quickly joined by some of the engineers. They all arrived just in time to see a tall, burly young man cursing out three smaller men. He had short dark hair, a moustache, a goatee and an angry purple-red scar running from his right eyebrow to his cheekbone. It looked fresh, and the other prisoners seemed absolutely terrified of him.

"What the hell d'you think you're doin', anyhow?" the prisoner growled, poking one of them in the chest confrontationally. "Whose space is this, anyway?" The cowed prisoner opened his mouth to reply, but the burly man cut him off with a fierce sweep of his hand. "I can't HEAR you!"

"Y—yours, Mr. Heidegger, sir!"

"Oh, that's so, huh? Alright, then, Jackson. What were you and your buddies thinkin', trying to set up camp for lunch right in the middle of it? Well?!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Heidegger, sir! It won't happen again!"

"Gyahahaha! You see that it don't, Jackson! Or findin' a space for your mess'll be the last thing on you and your buddies' minds. Now clear on outta here and I might just forget the whole thing."

"Yes, M—Mr. Heidegger, sir." Jackson and his crew bowed and scraped away as quickly as possible. But Heidegger seemed to have other ideas.

"And another thing. Clean up yer own damn mess next time!" Heidegger growled as he swung a punch for Jackson's head.

On the scaffolding above them, Palmer shrieked and flinched as Heidegger's fist barreled for the frail man's forehead. And as he covered his eyes, the telescope slipped from his fingers and plummeted to the ground below. "Oh no! Copernicus!" Palmer shrieked. He made a grab for the telescope, but it was too late. The telescope had already landed lens-down in a pile of dirt. The prisoners all turned at the sound and four mouths opened in surprise before four heads turned up to look at the pale and trembling engineer.

Palmer's hands continued to weakly kneed the air as he stared helplessly down at his telescope. Despite the small, choked whimpers coming from his mouth no on said a word. Heidegger was the first to speak or move. With a cruel smirk upwards at the helpless Palmer, he calmly strode over to the dirt pile and roughly pulled the telescope from it. "Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here, boys! Gyahahaha!" Heidegger twirled the telescope over his head. "Seems one 'a them Shinra kids dropped a toy for us! Whaddya say? Wanna play with it some?"

Everyone on the scaffold was surprised when Palmer found his voice. Most of all Palmer himself. "Please, don't do that! Don't do that!" the hapless engineer cried. "Copernicus…hey, he's a real delicate piece of equipment! He's not made to be thrown or swung around like that!"

"Oh no?" Heidegger shot the engineer such a fierce glare that the young man eeped and backed up quickly, stepping directly on Shinra's toes. "Gyahaha! Well it don't look like no piece of delicate equipment to me, buddy. What's it look like to you, boys?"

"A frisbee!"

"A jump rope!"

"A…stick throwing…thing…yeah…"

"Gyahaha! Sorry, boy. 'Fraid the majority's spoke on it. Looks like we're gonna play a game of stick-throwin'-thing to end our break today, boys!"

"No! You can't! Please don't do that! Please!" Palmer screamed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing. "You'll break him! You'll break him if you do that! You big bullies! He never did anything to you! Never! Never!"

Heidegger squinted sourly up at the panicking man. His injured eye and the blinding afternoon sun made it difficult to see the speaker clearly. Nevertheless, he could make out enough to know that the telescope's owner was a frail little wimp. And one he would immensely enjoy teaching a lesson. And what the hell was up with naming a telescope and calling it a 'he', anyway?! "You want your frisbee back you can come down an' get it!" He shouted up at the scaffolding.

"Uh, boss?" Heidegger pivoted angrily to find Jackson hesitantly tapping him on the shoulder. "It's been a fun game and all, but…"

"Well? Ya gots somethin' to say, spit it out!"

"But he's a Shinra employee, sir. It's one thing to harass the guards…they expect that. But an actual member of Shinra brass?"

Heidegger dismissed the thought with a harsh laugh. "Gyahahahahaahahaaaa! Ya crack me up sometimes, Jackson. Ya really do. Shinra knows what side his bread's buttered, and 'slong as we stop short 'a killin' someone, he ain't gonna lift a hand to us. Otherwise, how's he gonna get his precious city rebuilt, huh?" Turning to the scaffold again, Heidegger shouted. "Yeah. You heard us, pretty boy. You want your Copernicus-whatsit back, you come down and gets it."

"But…" Palmer whimpered. "But I'll miss lunch…"

"Gyahaha! In five minutes we'll be eatin' this thing of yours for lunch!" Heidegger laughed as he tossed the telescope to Jackson. "So, what's it gonna be, kid?"

Whimpering, Palmer turned to Shinra (who was still scowling and massaging his injured toes). "President Shinra, please…can someone go down there and get Copernicus for me? Please?"

Unfortunately for Palmer, Shinra's mood had passed from foul to murderous in the span of the last three minutes. "Palmer, this is out of my hands. Your telescope isn't company property, and as such it is not my responsibility to recover it for you. If you want it, you go down and get it."

"But…but they're so big and…"

"And you'll have Shinra security there if they try anything!" Shinra snapped. "Now get your ass down there if you want that thing. Unless you'd like me to kick it over the railing for you with the one part of my body you _haven't_ damaged today?!"

Palmer shook his head and whimpered sadly. "Okay, okay…I'll go get it, sir. Just don't yell at me. Please?"

"Palmer, at this point in time, I really don't give a damn." The president turned to the engineers and waved his hand. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. If there are no more questions, why don't we all go to lunch now? In the Oak Room? My treat?" 

The engineers seemed to forget the trauma of the afternoon at the prospect of eating in the executive cafeteria.  One by one they filed past Palmer, chattering and laughing happily. For his part, President Shinra glared at the engineer and ordered two of the company's omnipresent soldiers to take Palmer down to the work area to retrieve his telescope. Realizing he had little choice in the matter if he ever wanted to see his Copernicus again, Palmer reluctantly followed them into the elevator. On the way down, he prayed he would make it back in one piece.

***

Heidegger quirked an eyebrow as the elevator doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. He couldn't contain his laughter at the sight of the man who stumbled from the car like a frightened little foal. So this was the owner of the telescope, eh? He was gangly, thin as a rail, two heads shorter and at least seventy pounds lighter, and his messy straw-colored hair and wide, shocked blue eyes made him look even more innocent, fragile and scared. Oh, yes. Tormenting this one would be fun. And judging by their laughter, the men behind him thought so, too.

"So, you're the guy who names telescopes," Heidegger chuckled as he hefted Copernicus into his hands. "Gyahaha! Came lookin' for this one, huh?"

Palmer swallowed anxiously and nodded as he clutched his box of doughnuts even closer for support. Heidegger nodded.

"And why d'ya think I should give it to you, eh?" When Palmer remained silent, he sneered and laughed again. "Gyahaha! 'S the matter, boy? Cat got yer tongue?"

"No…" Palmer swallowed again. "Well, I'm here now…so….yeah. Can I have him back now, please?" He held out his hand shakily for the instrument, but Heidegger had other ideas. Grinning dangerously at Palmer, he tossed the telescope to Jackson again, if only to watch the engineer's face pale in terror.

"Hey, don't do that! He's not a toy, you know!" Palmer was grateful for the security behind him. Without them, he felt as if he would pass out on the spot. Instead, he felt brave enough to one hand into a fist in what he hoped passed as a menacing manner.         

Heidegger noted the attempt soberly as he retrieved the telescope from Jackson. "An' why the hell should I give it back, huh? You think I owe a god damned thing to Shinra, kid?" He smirked as the fist shook and unballed itself. 

"No," Palmer said softly. "No, I don't think you do. Hey…you're name's Heidegger, right? Mr.  Heidegger?"

_Mister_ Heidegger. "Heh. No one but these assholes calls me Mr. anything, Palmer." Nevertheless, it was both unnerving and…somehow pleasing to be called 'Mister' by a superior. So Heidegger loosened his grip on the telescope. "Only fair that I tell you my name, I reckon. Name's Klaus Heidegger."

"It's nice to m—meet you, Mr. Heidegger." Remembering his manners then, Palmer shakily held the doughnut box out to him. "Hey, would you like a doughnut? I dropped some of them on the floor awhile ago, but those were just the glazed ones. The powdered sugars and the crumbly ones should still be okay."

This time both of Heidegger's eyebrows shot upwards. "Would I like a doughnut?" he repeated.

"Yeah!" Palmer managed a genuine smile that time. "'Cause they always make me feel better when I'm down! Doughnuts are the best things in the whole world, I think. Well, except for telescopes. And rockets! Yeah! Rockets are the best things ever! Hey, go on and have one? Please? They have to be better than what you're fed, right?"

"How the hell old *is* he," Jackson muttered. "Eight and a half?" Heidegger promptly elbowed him in the ribs and turned back to Palmer, who was now stuffing a doughnut into his face. 

"Mhh! Ig's goog! Wand one, Mr. Heidegger?" He held the box out again as he swallowed. "Ahhh! That really hit the spot! I'm Matthew Palmer, by the way!" He balanced the doughnut box against a hip and shot his hand forward. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Heidegger!"

The prisoner rolled his eyes. "Dammit, stop with the 'Mister' shit, wouldja? 'S creepin' me out awful! Just Heidegger. Or Klaus if ya want." Matthew Palmer, eh?"

"Just Matt, please!" Palmer said. "Yeah, I'm an engineer now, but someday I hope I'll be an astronaut! Hey, speaking of space, did you know they were thinking of naming a comet Heidegger? Heidegger. Heidegger. I like that name. It's really strong."

Ahh, so that was why the name had sounded familiar. Heidegger chuckled. "Matt Palmer, eh? So you're that stupid engineer that everyone hates." The men behind him twittered until Heidegger's glare silenced them. 

Palmer looked stunned. How had Heidegger known that? But he tried to laugh it off cheerfully. "Yes, I guess I am," he beamed. "But, hey, it doesn't matter if no one likes me. 'Cause I like myself! Oh, by the way? The ones with the sprinkles are the best! So I'd start with those."

Heidegger couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Palmer, look," he said. "I got your telescope. I'm libel to smash it on the ground or give it to Tommy here to throw around some, and all you can talk about is space and doughnuts?" Palmer looked at him innocently and nodded, hoping to appease the prisoner with laugher instead of force in the form of the two security guards. "Heh. Next thing you'll be tellin' me the rings of Saturn's made out of doughnuts!" This time he and his men all shared a hearty laugh.

Palmer laughed too. "Hahaha! That's really funny! Man, don't I wish they were! You know, when I was a little boy I actually made the whole solar system out of cakes? Ahh, anyway they, the real planets, they're actually made out of ice, and some rock particles and they're thought to have been formed after…I'm not boring you, I hope." Palmer shifted nervously. "People say I talk too much, especially about space." He shot Heidegger another grin. "But I just can't help it! I think I was a quasar in a former life! Or maybe a comet! Tra la la!"

 Both of Heidegger's eyebrows raised again. "Tra-LA-la?" he repeated incredulously. "What the hell kinda fag code is that?"

Palmer looked hurt. "Um…it's not a code at all," he said softly. "I just say that sometimes..." he smiled helplessly. "See, I'm not such a great talker. Especially around people I've just met."

"That so?" Heidegger sneered. "Listen, Matt Palmer. My boys and me, we don't give a good god damn about space or comets or doughnuts or whatever."

"Oh…okay," Palmer gave them his most disarming look. "If I can have Copernicus back now, I promise I'll go away and never, ever talk to you about space or doughnuts again!"

"Fine," Heidegger yawned. Truth be told, he was getting tired of this stupid little game. "Take the damn thing." And he shoved the telescope back into Palmer's waiting hands.

"Ohh!" the engineer whispered as he clutched the telescope to his chest. "Thank you, Mr. Heidegger! Hey, thanks a lot!"

"Just Klaus, dammit!" the prisoner shouted. "God, I love how you Shinra assholes are all so damned hard of hearing! Hey!" He shouted as the other prisoners began walking away. "The hell you assholes goin'?"

"The whistle just blew, Mr. Heidegger."

"Fuck the whistle," but Heidegger shrugged. "Heh. Duty calls or somethin'. I'd say it was nice talkin' to you, Matt Palmer. But it wasn't, and my Mama hates a liar. So goodbye."

"Wait a second," Palmer looked at the guards helplessly. "Hey…can he and I talk for a bit longer, please?"

"Five minutes," the guard said impassively. But truly he was enjoying the human comedy.

"No, I will not stay for five minutes or five seconds!"  Heidegger snarled as he rounded on Palmer and the guards. "And you can put those damn mako guns down, dammit! I just wanna talk to the kid!" He gave Palmer a menacing scowl and put his hands on his hips. "Listen, Mister. I don't give a fuck who you are, or what you think you do in this company, but I'm bein' forced, paid, whatever to work on a city here. Not to eat doughnuts an' listen to your go on about outer space like you was a teacher givin' a lecture. I don't care what Shinra thinks, but me an' these people down here…we're not here to keep you an' yours entertained, got it?"

"N-no, of course not," Palmer stammered. But something about the man's words troubled him. "Hey, you said you were forced to work on this city…hey, what did you mean by that?"

"Yeah, play the innocent," Heidegger snapped. "Or don't a fancy-pants engineer like you know they're buildin' this city with slave labor? Yep. That's right. Pay us barely five gil a day, but 's better 'n rotting away at Coral, I guess. And put that damn gun down, Mister! The man asked a question an' I was jest answerin' it!"

"No, I didn't know that," Heidegger snapped his head around at Palmer's soft words. "I didn't know that's how they were building this city."

"Bullshit you didn't! You said you were an engineer!"

Palmer shook his head. "That's what they call me, but that doesn't mean I do the work. Drafting, reports…I don't know how to do any of it."

Heidegger chuckled. "Oh no? So how'd a loser like you get into Shinra in the first place, then?"

"My father."

"You're helpin' him out?"

"Kind of," Palmer stared down at his feet. "He wants me here, and so he makes sure I stay, even if I don't have any clue what's going on." He sighed sadly. "You're right, you know. I'm not really cut out to be an engineer at all." He looked up then, face alive with the thought. "I'd rather just fly a rocket ship!"

"Yeah, I reckon you would, Space Cadet."

Palmer's expression fell. But not at Heidegger's light insult. "They really keep you as slaves?" he asked again.

Heidegger shrugged. "You  don't believe me, take a look 'round. You think any of us like workin' in a place like this? Dust an' sand everywhere, paint and sparks fallin' on you night 'n' day."

"Really?"

"Yep. You should see where we sleep if you think this's bad."

"Oh," Palmer's eyes widened as he took in the work space for the first time. "Yeah, just look at those exposed wires and stuff! This place can't be safe!" 

"That's the smartest thing you said all day." Heidegger bowed stiffly to the engineer. "Now, you'll excuse me but I gotta get back to work 'fore they notice I'm gone an' dock my pay. Not that it matters or anything, but if I gotta work for 'em, then I want every last gil."

"Wait! You said they made you work for us…them, I mean. But if you're being paid?"

Heidegger laughed bitterly. "Five gil ain't even close to a tenth a the money you see in a day, Matt. And parents or no parents, 'least you didn't come to work on pain of being beat up or losin' your life. Remember that." 

Palmer grabbed him by the sleeve as he tried to leave again. The action surprised both men completely. Palmer because he didn't know what had motivated him to do such a thing, and Heidegger because…

_'Cause it's been ten minutes and he's still talkin' to me. _"Alright, kid," he said firmly. "You wanna talk, fine. What'dya wanna say?"

"I wanna know…I mean, may I ask you somethin', Klaus?"

"If you let go of my shirt, I might consider it." Nevertheless, Heidegger was touched by the question. "You know, usually you Shinra don't ask before askin' me anything. You just bark it in my face." 

"Yeah," Palmer said sympathetically. "They do that a lot here, don't they? Hey, you seem like a real intelligent man, Klaus…and a pretty decent one, too. So how did you end up in a place like this?" When Heidegger's face returned to its usual stony expression, Palmer cowered behind his doughnut box. "I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

Contrary to Palmer's fear, however, Heidegger wasn't angry. In fact, he felt he hadn't been this surprised in quite some time. No one, not even the other prisoners, had ever bothered to ask him a question like this. Perhaps that was why it took him so long to answer. "….I was born here," he admitted at last, in a low voice that could have been mistaken for a breath.

Palmer looked as if he'd just been slapped across the face. Slowly he raised a hand to his mouth, not quite able to believe what he'd just heard. "Oh, how awful for you," he whispered at last. "And you must be…."

"Twenty," Heidegger said roughly. "Twenty last October." 

"But…in all that time, no one ever…no one ever knew?"

He shrugged as if the years didn't matter. "Why should it matter to anyone, huh? I started my share of shit 'round Coral. Got out a few times, good behavior and the like. Taught myself the stuff I needed to know, and none of it ever worked." He kicked a pebble away coarsely. "Always ended up back there again. No matter what, no matter how. An' yer still holdin' my sleeve, by the by."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Palmer shakily released Heidegger's sleeve. He didn't know what to say for quite sometime. But when he did, everyone – Heidegger, the guards and himself was surprised at the vehemence with which he spoke. "Klaus, I promise you…I promise you that Mayor Domino will hear of this."

"Huh?" Heidegger rubbed his hears. Was he going deaf, or had he honestly heard what he thought he had.

"Yes. And the Village elders of Coral will hear about this. And so will the prison warden! I'll write him day and night until he listens! And President Shinra will hear about this, too!"

Palmer was insane. Yes, that had to be it. "And what makes ya think that'll do a damn bit of good?" Heidegger shrugged. "And anyway, so what if it does? So I get out. Good for me. But where does that leave all the rest of these people?" He gestured at the other prisoners. "Nowhere, that's where. And I'll tell ya why, Matt. 'Cause they won't have no one to speak for 'em then." 

"But – but it's wrong! And unfair!" Palmer whispered. "You didn't do anything and –"

"Unfair? Yeah, maybe. But if I don't deserve to be here, then neither do they!"

And no one wants to be here. Hell, half these people ain't even fit to work! Like over there," he gestured at an old man pushing a cart down a small incline. "You see that? That's Ol' Scott. Been in prison since I was born, got a bad back an' shoulder. Says he was thrown in here fer not bowin' for one of the old Shinra's during a parade once. An' that girl?'. He gestured to a teenager dragging a bundle of pipes. "That there's Milly. Tried ta beat up the soldiers who were beatin' her boyfriend silly. Guess they didn't like that none." He turned back to the engineer and shook his head sadly. "Point is, Matt? Most all of us are in here for a stupid reason. So why should I be so damn special, huh?"

Palmer then helped the situation entirely by whimpering. "Oh god, that's so sad….why hasn't anyone done something?"

Heidegger shrugged and stomped his long-forgotten cigarette out in the dist. "'Cause they're all pussies like you, ain't they? Well, been nice talkin' to ya, kid."

As the prisoner turned away a second time, Palmer felt something in him snap. In one instant, everything made sense. He and Heidegger…both of them had been born into something they didn't want, something that wouldn't let them go no matter how hard they struggled. "I bet you cry at night too, don't you?" he asked softly. And before Heidegger could turn to scoff at him, Palmer placed his telescope and the doughnut box on top of the dirt pile, threw his arms around that massive waist and rested his head softly against the prisoner's back. "I promise you, I'll do everything I can to stop this, Klaus," Palmer chuckled lightly. "Even if I am a pussy."

He. Was. Being. Hugged. Heidegger couldn't even squeak, even as the engineer released him and adjusted his yellow bow-tie calmly, as if the hug had never happened. It took Heidegger a moment to realize that they were both blushing. 

"So," Palmer laughed nervously. "Hey, hey! I better let you get back to your work now, huh? But why don't you keep the doughnuts with you, huh? You may get hungry later, you know."

Heidegger nodded. "So. Um. I'll." 

"Uh-hunh." 

The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Heidegger managed to force a loud laugh from his throat. "Gyahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!"

"So, I'll see you later, then?" Palmer asked sheepishly.

Heidegger paused, mid laugh. "You'd come back here?" He wondered why the thought did not irritate him very much.

The engineer nodded empathetically. "Of course I would! And with more doughnuts."

"Aw," Heidegger smirked and lightly punched Palmer's shoulder. "Well, great. See ya then, I guess."

Palmer winced as he rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, see you then." Then slowly, he turned to leave. 

"Hey, Matt! Hey!" Heidegger held the telescope and doughnut box out to Palmer. "Forgettin' somethin'?"

"Ohh! Hey, hey! Of course!" Palmer cackled. "How stupid of me!" Gingerly he took the telescope from Heidegger. "Hey, you keep the doughnuts though, okay? Just dust 'em off and share them with your friends. I'll get plenty more where those came from!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that."

"Well…'bye, Klaus." Palmer waved. "Lovely meeting you!"

Heidegger nodded. "Likewise." And as Palmer climbed into the elevator (stumbling as he turned to look back one last time), Heidegger shook his head.

_Stupid kid. What the hell's he think he's gonna accomplish?_

Nevertheless, Heidegger couldn't wipe the smile from his face for the rest of the long working day.


End file.
